Early Sunday morning walking along the coast and down to the beach between Torrey Pines and Del Mar, California...
In a small patch of land between the coast road and the edge of the cliff, I heard a bird sing, perched on a reed, so loud and clear that all other sounds ceased.
I listened and made my way down the cliff, across a stream, across railroad tracks that shouldn't be there, and down to the beach. A few people dotted the beach, here and there, setting up for the day. A young couple was sitting and unpacking their food, the girl carefully unwrapping the yellow paper around her sandwich. Just as she was starting to take a bite, a seagull swooped in across the surf and snatched up the whole sandwich right out of the wrapper, leaving her frozen in place, wide-eyed, and holding an empty wrapper. The gull took the feast a few feet away to eat, fought off another gull, as we all watched in wonder and laughed, our eyes meeting, our words lost in the sound of the waves.
As I continued on my way, I saw a young father with his daughter coming down to surf. He was wearing a black wetsuit and holding a short board. She was small, maybe 3 or 4 years old, and wearing a tiny blue wetsuit with floaters on her arms. He took her up onto his back, with her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck, walked out into the surf, put the board in the water, lay down on his belly with her on his back, and paddled out. The waves were high and active. Good waves. Lots of surfers. And there they were, paddling out into the middle of it all. He caught a wave quickly, and they rode it all the way in, with her squealing with delight and holding on tight. They came to shore and went right back out to do it again. Flying across the waves, squealing with delight. Over and over.
A perfect Sunday morning.
